Chapter 23
twenty-three
WILL
Zeke: Hey, what’s up?
Zeke: You around?
Zeke: I’m a liiiiiiitttllleee tipsyyyy
Zeke: Ok I’ll try group chat
*3 missed calls from Zeke Holloway*
Ihardly even remember the walk from Lydia’s house back to where my truck’s parked at the library, and it’s not until I’m sitting safely in the cab that I dare to open Ethan’s text.
I didn’t even catch a glimpse of the text preview as Lydia was waving my phone around, but I could tell from her face that she’d seen enough to know what’s going on.
I’ve got a ton of missed calls that I don’t even glance at and a bunch of texts from Zeke, but I’ll get to them later. Right now, I need to see what Ethan said.
Ethan: Great! Reached out to your first rec and got a bid! Thanks for facilitating. I want to get the groundbreaking in before first frost—maybe next week?
When I read Ethan’s text, I let my head fall back against the headrest. It’s pretty incriminating.
If she’s already reacting the way she did when she doesn’t even know we’re going to have to take those two main walls out, I’m not even going to bother telling her.
It’s a hassle I don’t need, and it’ll only make it worse for her.
I’ve got a job to do, and what I need to do now is just fucking do it.
I put the truck in gear and head out. I’m hoping to god that Zeke’s not home when I get there, because if I have to hear him sniff the air and say I smell like sex I just might punch him in his perfect little face.
Then again, going home to an empty house seems pretty damn lonely, too.
But I guess that’s par for the course for me, isn’t it?
I’ve always known I’d be better off alone, staying out of everyone else’s business and keeping them out of mine. Better for everyone else, too.
I’m pulling into my driveway when a call comes over the speakers: Phoebe Holloway.
I groan, but I answer it anyway. If Phoebe needs one of her brothers, she almost always calls Benji—because, I mean, he’s her twin. She doesn’t usually call me, so I’m hoping everything’s okay.
“What’s up?”
“Where are you?” Phoebe’s voice is tense.
“Driving.”
“Okay, well...” Phoebe pauses. “I don’t know how to say this exactly, but… Zeke’s at the police station.”
“What do you mean he’s at the police station? Like… like, he’s visiting?”
“I mean, that’s one way to put it,” Phoebe says, sounding helpless. “Usually I think you’d just say he got arrested.”
I nearly hit the brakes. “Arrested?! Phoebe, what the fuck?”
“Well, don’t get mad at me! You’re the one who hasn’t been answering your fucking phone. They picked him up for driving drunk—and good on them for doing it. Little fucker.”
Oh, god. The missed calls. I know I shouldn’t while driving, but I flip desperately through my texts—the ones I didn’t bother to open up until now—and they’re all from Zeke, clearly hammered out of his mind and asking for a ride home from the bar. My heart sinks.
“Shit. So, what, he called you?”
“Yeah, after he couldn’t get a hold of you or Benji—Benji had a bad breakup, story for a different day—he tried me. Will, it was awful. He was fucking crying.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Even though it was Zeke who decided to get behind the wheel of a car while drunk, I still feel responsible.
If I’d had my head screwed on straight, hadn’t been carrying on with a woman these past couple weeks…
I could’ve been there for him. While I was busy getting blown this evening, my brother—who I’m supposed to be looking out for—needed me. And I wasn’t there.
“Fuck,” I say to Phoebe. “Okay. I’m headed there now. I’ll bail him out, and I’ll… I’ll… take care of this. Somehow.”
The line clicks off, and I’m left driving in silence. I can tell Phoebe’s upset with me, and I don’t blame her. I’m upset with myself.
I don’t know what I was thinking, letting myself lose control like that.
Letting myself think my priorities belonged anywhere other than my family.
I’m picturing Zeke alone in a jail cell, and yeah, even though his stupid ass deserves to be there for making such dumbfuck decisions, I also know I’m to blame.
I wasn’t there when he called me. I’m the one who got distracted.
I peel out of the driveway and speed off for the Hawthorne County jail.
Part of me thinks I shouldn’t even bail Zeke out, should just let him sit there all night and think about what the fuck he did, but I don’t think I can.
I’ve got the money—just barely—and I’ve already been absent enough the way it is.
I can’t shake the feeling that it’s half my fault he’s there.
It’s time I get my focus straight. Letting myself get involved with Lydia hasn’t been good for anyone.
Carrying on with her while knowing full well I’m going to have to make good on those renovations?
No matter how good the sex is—or how freeing it’s been to let myself be, I don’t know, the tiniest bit vulnerable—it’s not worth the emotional distress it’s going to cause.
And it’s also meant I’m not there for Zeke like I should be—which is, honestly, more like my fucking old man than I care to admit. It’s over with Lydia. It has to be.
At a red light, I text Ethan back. I need to do it now before I lose the nerve.
Will: Sure thing. Permits are in, I think we can fast track the bidding.
I toss my phone onto the passenger seat, staring out at the road ahead. I don’t know where this soft Will came from, but he’s overstayed his welcome. I’m bailing Zeke out, taking him home, and gathering all the contacts I can to send to Ethan.
The sooner this is over and we can all move on, the better for everyone. Lydia included.